


Don't Wrestle With The Night (Prompt Fill #15)

by asuninside



Series: Tumblr Prompts [15]
Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asuninside/pseuds/asuninside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous prompted: Have you ever done an angry sex fic? Not in a bdsm kind of way but they just get in a fight over something stupid and have rough sex over it</p><p>Anonymous prompted: angry sex question/prompt was meant to be a prompt :) xx</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Wrestle With The Night (Prompt Fill #15)

Kurt comes home looking to pick a fight. Blaine can tell because at 5:08 there’s the slam of the door and at 5:09 Kurt stalks into the room and yells Blaine's name with such ferocity that he nearly falls out of his chair in surprise.

He knows that Kurt is looking for a fight because there isn't any build up. There’s no annoyed reminder, no snide remark, no venting about something that happened at school or work.

Kurt just storms into the room, jaw set, shoulders tensed, and starts laying into him.

In the very deepest recesses of his brain, Blaine knows that Kurt isn’t really mad at him.

He knows that Kurt is probably overworked and had a series of small things go wrong today that all led to this point, to  him yelling at Blaine about something so inconsequential that he’s already forgotten what it was.

He feels the sting anyway because they don’t fight like this. They don’t _fight like this_.

Kurt can get snarky and sacrastic when he’s tired, Blaine can get surly when he doesn’t think he’s done something to the best of his abilities, but that's fine. They’re human, they’re not perfect, they have faults.

They're a strong, loving couple that knows how to work through the few bad moments and delight in the far more frequent good.

They don’t fight like this. 

Kurt’s tossing words at him like daggers and they’re not breaking through his skin but they’re coming pretty close.

_Thoughtless. Childish. Immature._

_Show off. Poser. Flirt._

Kurt keeps pushing him, pressing his buttons like fingers into bruises until he’s had _enough_ , he can’t sit back and take this.

He leaps up from his desk chair and directly into the front line of the skirmish. One by one, he pulls out the daggers, refashions them, and starts hurling them back.

_Stubborn. Snobbish._

And on it goes, back-forth, forth-back.

_Spoiled. Naïve._

Blaine’s words are doing nothing to Kurt; they’re gliding right off him and giving him strength. Screw daggers, he needs swords.

_Arrogant. Narcissistic._

Kurt’s red in the face and inching nearer and nearer to Blaine.

_Coward. Cheater._

He’s won.

But instead of crumpling like he normally would. Instead of crying, of curling up and shutting out the world, he lets the blazing scarlet of anger dim to the deep wine red of lust.

His heart is thrashing wildly in his ribcage, his cheeks are hot, and he feels reckless and wild.

He grabs Kurt by the shoulders and slams him against the wall.

Their mouths are crushed together in seconds. He’s licking into Kurt’s mouth slick and fast and dirty and Kurt wraps a hand around his side and digs into Blaine’s waist so that Blaine can he can feel the subtle scrape of his fingernails through the fabric of his shirt.

Kurt fights for dominance with his tongue and Blaine can taste the fury there, the salty tang of hurtful words and the cloying sweetness of stifled love.

Blaine moans, clings to Kurt like a lifeline, feels blood coursing through him, bright and bewildered as his hurt heals at quickly, fully, and evolves into pleasure, pleasure, white-hot lust.

The kissing unfamiliar and intoxicating.  Too frenzied, too violent, too _much._  Blaine whines against Kurt’s mouth.

Wordlessly, Kurt begins to walk forward, forcing Blaine to take a step back to keep from falling down.

He shoves Blaine onto the bed and descends upon him, pulling at his clothes heedlessly, baring Blaine’s skin not inch by inch but in great fragments that leave him shuddering, shivering.

There’s arousal rolling through him in waves. He opens his mouth, wants to cry out Kurt’s name, ask him, beg him, he needs _something_.

Something about Kurt’s searing stare keeps him quiet though. Eyes cold, cold blue with traces of flickering warmth, like the sea caught afire.

Kurt slides his hand between Blaine’s legs and himself down the bed in one swift motion and takes Blaine into his mouth, so deep that Blaine has to turn his head into a pillow to muffle his scream.

He reaches frantically down to tangle his fingers in Kurt’s hair, pulls sharply and is rewarded with Kurt moaning brokenly around his cock.

Kurt works him fast and rough, or as rough as he can be with his beautiful, honey-mild mouth and an angel-soft palm.

It doesn’t take long for him to bring Blaine close to the edge. Blaine isn’t sure he’s ever felt this way. His mind is muddled and tempestuous, his throat is raw, his cheeks are flushed and fever-hot; Kurt is _taking him apart_.

Kurt driven by lust and anger and greed is breaking him down nerve ending by nerve ending and Blaine can't  _think._

Blaine thrashes in the sheets, cries out hoarsely, and comes, flooding Kurt’s mouth.

Kurt swallows around him, over and over.

Blaine is near convulsing, he’s so sensitive that it almost hurts, but Kurt takes himself in hand and continues to suck and lick and tease Blaine with his tongue, stopping only when his own pleasure crests. The intensity of his orgasm forces his mouth from Blaine; he throws his head back and whimpers with his lip caught between his teeth.

Then he slumps forward onto Blaine and buries his face in Blaine’s chest, breathing raggedly until his eyes slip shut and sleep claims him.

As Kurt dreams, Blaine stays awake, watching the fluttering eyelashes and slow, steady breaths of the man he loves as the afternoon fades into evening and evening into quiet night.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from New Ceremony by Dry The River


End file.
